"He won't run," it was said.
"Oh, he's never actually going to register," it was later said.
"This is the end for Donald Trump," it was said every time that Mr. Trump shouted something ridiculous, boastful, hateful, or just plain incorrect – so just about every other day.
Yet, there Mr. Trump is, likely to win the Republican nomination.
There's mounting confusion, distress, panic and anger over the possibility of a Trump presidential win, and that's just from his own party.
It's been entertaining of late to watch various factions try to come to terms with his rise – to reconcile it with their own political philosophies.
From the left, I've read that Mr. Trump's success shouldn't be attributed to racial prejudice in his (entirely coincidentally) predominantly white, older, male followers. Hell no. These fine working men are not primarily responding to a candidate who emerged onto the political scene demanding to see President Barack Obama's birth certificate, and then called Mexicans rapists, and then said all Muslims should be kept out of America.
"Tells it like it is" and "He isn't all politically correct" are not code for "He's a racist, like me!" Don't even think that.
No, I have read that, underneath all the bluster and sucker-punching, these good souls are just angry about the North American Free Trade Agreement and that's your problem right there, or so say people who have a long-standing opposition to free trade. I guess I just keep missing all these "Locally sourced pride" tattoos sported by Mr. Trump's followers.
These men are uneducated, we're also cautioned, in hushed tones. (In fact, polls suggest that a fifth of Mr. Trump's support comes from those with at least a college education.)
Trump supporters are mostly spoken of in a manner both reverential and patronizing. There's something about them that turns virtually every journalist covering them into Starfleet officers reporting on a prewarp civilization; the rest of America can move secretly about Trump voters – provided no one judges them or attempts to interfere with the internal development of their simple alien civilization.
Anyone who says, "Are you serious? That's not rain you're feeling. That's the collective spit-take that Trump's tariff talk is inspiring in America's business community; and just for starters, if you keep all the Mexicans out, an orange is going to cost you four bucks," would be violating the prime directive.
To mock or even challenge these Trump fans is "elitist." This I've read repeatedly. I suggest that what is in fact elitist is the assumption that the default position of the working-class man is rabid xenophobia, violence and isolationism. This is, after all, the same demographic that formed unions in response to economic crises and helped defeat Hitler. Everyone keeps writing about these men as if they just walked out of the forests and are understandably confused by the modern world around them.
In fact, they grew up mostly in the seventies, watching All in the Family or at least watching America change. And if they don't know better, they are certainly capable of learning. Hell, they've clearly been learning a lot from talk radio. Part of the problem might be that no one is paying much attention to the many non-college-educated men aged 50 to 64 who suffered during the economic downturn but didn't develop man crushes on the anthropomorphic personification of a Youtube comment thread.
On the right, we hear mainly that, while Trump is truly awful, his rise is primarily President Obama's fault: That man had the nerve to be elected, twice. Others twist themselves into a different position. They hear what rhetoric Mr. Trump does manage to articulate, in between the pro-wrestler-esque taunts and threats from himself and the actual wrestling manoeuvres from his followers. But while they cannot miss the fact that what he's proposing is the antithesis of everything the Republican Party stands for, is clearly illegal and/or unconstitutional, is economically ruinous, or all of the above, they have chosen to conclude that this would still be a win for the team!
All of this spinning, from both sides, requires some truly breathtaking ideological contortions. These days, everyone has front-row seats to political Cirque du Soleil, and in the centre ring stands Donald Trump. And what's he doing? He's babbling. Mr. Trump does know he can hire a speechwriter, doesn't he? They're like golf pros for words, sir; please consider it.
This is perhaps the most astounding thing about the man: Given all the advantages of which he boasts – "I'm a very smart guy. I went to the best college. I had good marks. I think I have great imagination" and, of course, "I have the best words" – how is it he just rambles all the time?
There's been a lot of talk about people being tired of traditional politics, but Trump fans seem just as, if not more, tired of traditional charisma and sentence structure. America apparently hungers for a national slightly drunk uncle who saw this thing on TV once about the Japanese, and Mr. Trump is not dull in an earnestly-imparting-a-lot-of-practical-information-that-you-need-to-know kind of way.
No, this is a man who has granted himself carte blanche to say literally anything he wants, unbound by good taste or reality. Donald Trump is the presidential-candidate equivalent of a lurid pulp-fantasy novel. He might as well have a cardboard cutout of a buxom chain-mail-bikinied woman over his face when he speaks – and yet he somehow still manages to be really boring.
Let's set aside what a Trump presidency would do for the United States' global standing (which I feel I should tell you, America, is not nearly as low as Mr. Trump would have you believe: No one thinks you're weak and easy, friends. A lot of people like you. As a nation, you're still hot. Please, neighbours, don't let a man pickup-artist his way into your White House.) Forget for a moment, as he himself often does, Mr. Trump's largely disastrous and unworkable policies.
Stop and think about the effect that a Trump presidency would have on America's vibrant rhetoric industry.
Telling his driver to look for the Gettysburg Address on Google Maps is the closest this man would ever get to great oratory.
How would "Mr. Gorbachev, pay for my wall!" have gone over on the international stage?
Will, in inevitable times of dire need, "I feel your pain. Very low energy, pussies! Sad!" resonate with the people?
The days of "My fellow Americans, Donald J. Trump says, 'Ask not what your country can do for you, because your country just does not win any more. They're killing us. I have a great relationship with these people, but it really doesn't matter what the media write as long as you've got a young and beautiful piece of ass,'" may well be nigh.